


Respite

by dazzler



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: F/M, Face-Sitting, Hand Jobs, Kissing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-10
Updated: 2016-08-10
Packaged: 2018-08-07 23:52:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7734703
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dazzler/pseuds/dazzler
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jannequinard and Cecily find themselves snowed in one night at Falcon's Nest.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Respite

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bliteorum](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bliteorum/gifts).



> past haurchefant/wol and onesided rufin/jannequinard implied. cecily is bliteorum's WoL!

Cecily slammed the inn room door behind her, the force sending icicles crashing to the ground outside. 

“Pray tell me the news,” Jannequinard said, standing. 

“I’ve just had word from Redwald, there will be no passage out of the Nest tonight.” Her mouth set in a grim line. 

The two of them had just finished their business in the Convictory, Lady Leveva travelling ahead with Quimperain as a safety precaution. Jannequinard let out a long sigh, clearly grateful for the extra rest, but Cecily’s skin prickled and an anxious thrumming had started up in her head since she’d learned they were snowed in. 

“You’re shaking. Come, warm yourself by the fire.” She nodded absently and drifted over to the armchair facing the fireplace. “We are a long way from Thanalan,” he said, wrapping a blanket about her shoulders. “By the by, we should contact Leveva to let her know we won’t be joining her in Ishgard.”

“I shall go.” Cecily struggled to her feet, the blanket slipping to the floor. 

“Not in this weather!” Jannequinard said, and he laid a firm hand on her shoulder. “That can wait until morning. You could be--”

“--killed and eaten, or eaten and then killed, I know,” she said, reaching up to brush a lock of hair from his forehead. 

He let out a low chuckle, which grew into a full-throated laugh. Cecily blinked at him. 

“Forgive me,” he said with a smile. “I was only thinking of someone I once knew who shared your rashness.” 

“Lev’s father?” she asked, hugging her knees to her chest. Jannequinard nodded. “What was he like?” 

“Brave, stubborn, loyal to a fault. In short, much like you, my dear.” 

Cecily was quiet for a moment. “You loved him, didn’t you?”

“He had a wife and child,” he said, smiling at the ground as if sharing some private joke with himself. “I wouldn’t have...” His expression abruptly grew more sober. “I worry about you, Cecily. You’re an outsider to this place as he was, not to mention helping me in spreading the art of Sharlayan astrology.” 

“I never knew before, what it was to lose someone,” she said, trailing off. Images from the Vault plagued her dreams still, haunting her almost every night. “How do we live up to them, Jannequinard?”

“I regret not knowing Lord Haurchefant better,” said Jannequinard, “but I know he would be proud of you, Cecily. As I am. My brightest pupil.” 

“I’m certain Lord Rufin would say the same of you,” she said. He swallowed and wiped his eyes. 

She took his hand in hers and kissed his knuckles, delicately, like a knight with a lady of breeding. He bent down to cross the fulm-and-a-half gap between them and pressed their lips together.

“Mm…” Cecily deepened the kiss, nipping at his lower lip and sliding her tongue into his mouth. She traced his sharper Elezen canines.  He let out a breathy laugh as her cold hand felt its way into his robes.

“Come closer,” she said, fingers mapping the skin of his chest. Her other hand palmed at him through his clothes. Jannequinard shivered. 

He began to undress her, but she moved his hands from where they were unlacing her bodice to instead slip under her skirts. “Mm, it’s rather cold,” she said, “better leave it on.” 

“What would please you? My hands? Perhaps you would prefer my mouth,” he said against her ear, touching her through her smallclothes before pulling them aside to tease her until she was swollen and wet. She breathed out, eyes fluttering closed; his long, slender fingers stroked her at an agonizingly slow pace that had her panting in his ear and clinging to the front of his robes to keep herself upright.  

“Your mouth,” she said, and, “get on the bed.” 

She followed him down, climbing on top of him. He looked up at her, all eager, bright eyes, and her heart swelled with fondness. 

Her knees on either side of his head, she straddled his face, leaning back and resting a hand on his chest. Jannequinard’s warm breath ghosted over her as she slowly lowered her hips. 

Cecily clutched the hem of her skirts, bunching them up in her lap as she moved, his mouth slick and hot beneath her. He curled his hands around her thighs and his lips parted, tongue dragging in a slow circle and pushing inside. 

“ _ Jannequinard _ , hells, that’s--” 

She came with a shudder, gripping tight to his shoulders. “Gods,” she sighed, sliding off of him. He sat up, breathing hard, and pulled her into his lap, his neglected cock throbbing between his legs and pressing rather insistently against her. Cecily kissed him, tasting herself. 

“Your turn,” she said, freeing his erection from where it strained against his smallclothes, a small wet patch forming at the tip. Jannequinard groaned.

“Cecily, please…” His teeth sank into his lower lip. “Please touch me, I need--”

She tightened her fingers around his length, squeezing him at the base and drawing her hand up to thumb at the head. She brought her thumb to her mouth and licked it, tasting salt on her skin. A wrecked moan fell from Jannequinard’s lips. 

“Lie back,” she ordered. She stroked him gently, kissing and nipping at his neck as she did so and holding her other hand at his hip to pin him down. The whole while he murmured a stream of sweet, meaningless nothings into her ear, occasionally broken by a soft gasp. 

“Cecily, you’re so, so good, oh Fury, but I’m close--”

When he bucked forward and spilled into her hand, Cecily swallowed his cry with a deep kiss.

The two of them lay side by side for a moment, panting, before Cecily spoke. 

“Jannequinard?” 

“Yes?” He looked up at her, his hair tousled and lips bitten and wet.

“I promise to be careful,” she said, cupping his cheek, “if you will too.”

“Of course, my dear.” Jannequinard closed his eyes and turned his face into her touch.

That night, she drifted to sleep with Jannequinard warm and snoring softly at her side. 


End file.
